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Tonight, there was an astronomy lesson. The first-year students lingered in the common room until nearly midnight before heading to the Astronomy Tower, the tallest structure in Hogwarts Castle, perfect for stargazing.
The students were yawning endlessly, but the brisk wind whistling through the tower snapped them awake.
The tower's summit was a spacious circular platform, shrouded in darkness. Various telescopes were arranged near the outer walls. When Hodge Blackthorn and his group arrived, Draco Malfoy was holding court, surrounded by his usual entourage, boasting about his family's connections.
According to him, Malfoy Manor was misnamed—it should've been called the Ministry of Magic Annex.
Mr. Malfoy, he claimed, often hosted distinguished guests at the manor—people who held key positions in the Ministry—discussing policies or preparing to donate hefty sums to some public cause.
Spotting Hodge, Malfoy shot him a quick glare before pivoting to his father's role as a school governor, heavily implying his family could get any student expelled.
"Let him brag, that money-obsessed git," Michael Corner scoffed.
"No wonder Crabbe and Goyle stick so close to him," Terry Boot added with disdain. "They're hoping Malfoy'll pull strings for them after exams."
Soon, Professor Sinistra appeared, a dark-skinned witch with jet-black hair.
"We've already studied the names and positions of stars, planets, and moons," she began with enthusiasm. "Starting today, we'll explore their orbits. You'll find that beneath these captivating patterns lie one fascinating astronomical phenomenon after another."
A Ravenclaw girl raised her hand.
"Professor Sinistra, when will we study constellations?"
Sinistra nodded understandingly. "For divination purposes? A little Muggle invention?"
The girl blushed.
"Miss Patil, I'm not mocking you," Sinistra clarified. "For those unaware, constellation-based divination is popular among Muggles. It uses your birthdate to predict personality, weekly fortunes, or even future careers."
"Of course, most of it's nonsense—more like a card game. Even our school's Divination class…" Sinistra swiftly changed tack. "Does anyone know what happened in July this year, astronomically speaking?"
Hodge raised his hand.
"Mr. Blackthorn, go ahead."
"I believe it was a total solar eclipse, Professor. A television network broadcasted it live."
"Excellent. Five points to Ravenclaw," Sinistra said, pleased. "Exactly right."
"It was one of the longest total solar eclipses this century, lasting nearly seven minutes, with a path stretching from Hawaii to Mexico and all the way to Brazil." She displayed a Muggle newspaper clipping showing the sun half-obscured.
"Students, astronomy is fascinating enough without mysticism. In this regard, Muggle scholars are ahead of us…"
After class, the students buzzed with discussion.
According to Professor Sinistra, Muggle-made alchemical devices had reached space hundreds of kilometers away, and astronauts were currently orbiting above them.
For students from wizarding families, this was mind-boggling.
But for some, like Patil, the concern was whether a new celestial body might disrupt her natal chart.
"That's a big deal," she sighed dramatically.
Since the astronomy lesson, Hodge had crossed paths with Peeves twice, neither encounter pleasant. This spurred him to find a way to deal with the poltergeist.
He'd posted a note on the bulletin board, and many had offered suggestions, some quite practical. But at the bottom, someone had scrawled in red ink that Peeves was impervious to harm and generally didn't hurt students—though no one knew his criteria, which seemed to swirl in his mischievous mind.
As if in defiance, another line appeared below in smaller script:
"Perhaps Eupraxia Mole knows."
Who was Eupraxia Mole? In the library, Hodge found useful information:
Eupraxia Mole, a former Hogwarts headmistress, had once banished Peeves from the castle. But he soon returned, armed with worse pranks and Muggle weapons from who-knows-where. Eupraxia was forced to sign a pact with him, promising various concessions.
Hodge pored over Hogwarts: A History, lingering on the words "signed a pact." An idea sparked. He began researching the castle's magical wards.
The next day, in a second-floor corridor, a boy and a cat met furtively.
"Any results?" Hodge asked.
"Meow!" Mrs. Norris raised her head proudly.
"Peeves is on the third floor?"
Mrs. Norris mewed again, snatching at the golden-fried fish treat in Hodge's hand.
"Got it. Keep me posted. Stay safe." They parted, each carrying an air of secret purpose.
Minutes later, Hodge spotted Peeves lurking behind a marble statue on the third floor. Whenever a student passed, he'd leap out, startling them. Hodge seized his moment, strolling by casually when no one else was around.
"Familiar little brat… have I seen you before?" Peeves materialized midair, grinning widely in his garish, multicolored outfit. "Did I ever drop an ink bottle on your head?"
The two had a proper scrap.
Hodge lured Peeves to an empty classroom. Chalk stubs and canes flew; Impedimenta and Freezing Charms shot back. Soon, the room was a mess.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
A thick rope materialized midair, slithering like a snake to bind Peeves' body and arms tightly.
Peeves' skinny legs flailed as he shrieked, "Ouch! I'm kidnapped! Kidnapped by a first-year brat!"
The next moment, he turned ethereal, and the rope slipped off.
"Nice trick, but you'll never beat the great Peeves!"
"Peeves, playtime's over," Hodge said.
"Peeves says it's not!"
Peeves' wicked eyes narrowed in annoyance. He dove at Hodge, who froze him midair, chalk and all, with another Freezing Charm.
"I don't have time to waste with you—you don't have classes to attend. But playing with you is fun, unless—" Hodge paused, setting his plan in motion.
"What's the little brat scheming?" Peeves asked, upside-down, staring at him.
"Let's make a deal. During the school term, every month—let's say once a month—I'll play a proper game with you. But you can't bother me otherwise."
"Sounds… interesting," Peeves said, rubbing his chin.
The floating poltergeist leaned in, extending a hand. As Hodge reached out, Peeves yanked his hand back, zooming to the ceiling. Sitting cross-legged in midair, he smirked triumphantly.
"Don't try to trick the great Peeves!"
He hurled chalk stubs, canes, wastebaskets, and old exam papers, but Hodge deflected them with a casual wand flick.
"Brat, what are you doing? You're supposed to run, dodge, jump—entertain Peeves!"
"Your tricks are outdated," Hodge said, bored. "I'm leaving. Don't bother me again, or I'll fetch the Bloody Baron—or the Grey Lady. You know who she is, don't you? She's got ways to handle you."
Peeves, still cross-legged in midair, looked thoughtful.
"You're bluffing. You can't possibly know—"
Hodge knew he'd hit the mark.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I should ask the Grey Lady about her mother—"
Peeves let out an irritated yell and swooped down from the ceiling. Hovering a foot from Hodge, he scrutinized his blue eyes.
Then, adjusting his orange bowtie, Peeves extended his hand and brushed Hodge's. A surge of magic coursed through Hodge.
He'd done it. He'd secured a pact with Peeves.
Under this agreement, Peeves couldn't harass him at will, enter his dorm, or rummage through his things. In some ways, Hodge could even summon him.
Peeves groaned, grumbling as if he'd been swindled. But the next second, he was grinning, dancing in midair.
"Peeves concedes! Peeves got outwitted by a brat! Now—Peeves is off to plan our next game!"
He spun away in a whirlwind.
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